FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“Welcome back to Paris!" a voice greeted.

A drone-camera hovered high above the green, festive Champ de Mars, a large, elongated public park stretching in front of the Eiffel Tower.

A majestic theme song played as the view slowly zoomed in on a temporary, sand-filled stadium. Grandstands lined three sides, with the 'open end' facing the Tower.

The camera cut to the booth.

The announcer, a male porcupine with spiky, quill-laden head-fur and a 'beach bro' vibe, was holding a microphone. He smiled and said, “Today, we bring the beach to the City of Love! That's right. The preliminary rounds of Olympic beach volleyball."

“It's gonna be a right ripper!" a female kangaroo with an Australian accent said. The view widened to include her. The chyron indicated she was a two-time silver medalist. “Win or lose, no one is eliminated today, but no mistake: you don't want a loss your first time out! They'll leave nothing on the sand."

“We should explain to the viewers that the prelims are 'round robin'," the porcupine said. “Four teams per group. Six groups. Everyone plays each other once. Top two teams in each group advance to the knockout rounds, along with four wildcards who will be forced into additional matches to become 'best of the rest'."

The camera view switched to 'eye level' on the sand. The grandstands were full and festive, many spectators waving flags and dancing in place to piped-in music.

The porcupine continued, “And we begin with a clash of the titans, don't we?"

“In terms of countries, yes. The United States and Brazil have dominated this event since its inception in 1996. Between them, they've claimed sixty percent of the podium positions! But all the medalists from 2020 have retired or failed to qualify, so the slate has been cleared in terms of talent. Can't make assumptions or rest on your laurels. It's anybody's to win!"

The athletes jogged out and started warming up.

The crowd cheered.

Flags waved.

“The first of two American teams in this tournament has perhaps the biggest name!"

“Zora, the Malabar giant squirrel," the kangaroo stated.

The camera fixated on the photogenic rodent.

“You may know her from her other job, as a reality TV star on Squirrel Your Stuff."

“I never miss it!"

“This will be her first Olympic start. She was an alternate last time out, barely missing out on a guaranteed qualifying berth."

The camera pushed in for a close-up of the insanely colored squirrel (fur a vivid, tropical patchwork of red, orange, yellow, and purple), who was taller than a normal rodent. Dressed in a sky-blue two-piece that showed off her attractive, athletic figure.

A bright, bubbly visage, Zora laughed at something her teammate said, then nodded, long, floofy tail furling over her head and testing the direction of the wind. She pointed and made some gestures, communicating a plan of attack.

“Zora has noticed there's quite a stiff breeze," the kangaroo said, “but the players will have to switch sides after every seven points in each set. This prevents either team from having a dominant advantage in the elements."

The porcupine added, “It's a humid, summer day here, but this sport is normally played in such conditions. The athletes will be used to that."

The kangaroo answered, “They will be, but that doesn't mean it won't be physically taxing. Especially for the squirrel. Zora tore an ACL shortly after the last Olympics. She decided not to make an immediate comeback, but when the defending gold medalist abruptly retired, she saw an opening and made a late push to be here."

“Obviously, she succeeded! And she's changed teammates since the last time she played."

The camera eyed another rodent. White on the front, her sides and back were varying shades of nutty brown. Dark, handsome 'racing' stripes went down her head and back, all the way to the tip of her wiry fluff-tail.

“Bella, a spritely chipmunk."

The roo said, “Bella has the speed, Zora has the strength. Together, they are a threat. You'll usually see Bella setting up Zora for the kill."

The camera drifted to the other side of the net.

“The rodents will be facing the beguiling jaguar twins, Mia and Mya of Brazil."

The jungle cats snarled and stretched, both in bright green bikinis (leaving very little to the imagination), their eyes amber-hued, pelts tawny orange and decorated with intricate, black rosettes.

“Though shorter than other feline species, they have a dense, strong musculature, which they'll frequently flex to intimidate and distract opponents."

“You can say that again!" the kangaroo echoed. “They have a 'take no prisoners' approach to the game. The intimidation factor is real. They enter this Olympics ranked number one in the world, and they are the odds-on favorites to win the gold. But, as we said, this is just the qualifying stage. The Americans can lose today and still advance. No panic. Just play your game."

The players took their positions, and a referee gave Zora the ball.

“And here we go!" the porcupine declared excitedly as the squirrel opened the match with a serve.

The jaguars, with sinewy grace, handled it easily. One setting the other up for a violent spike.

The crowd roared.

The felines hissed and pushed against the sky with their sharp-clawed paws, as if to say 'we're raising the ceiling.'

“And the Brazilians come out strong. Wow. I'd like to know the velocity on that hit!" the kangaroo exclaimed.

“You have to wonder if Zora will be hesitant to make sudden, juking movements, knowing she's already hurt her ACL once? Has to be in the back of her mind," the porcupine said.

The jaguars took over serve, and they sent it Bella's way. Their game plan would be to attack her over Zora. Initially, anyway. Even recovering from injury, Zora was the bigger threat on account of her height.

Arms stiffly outward, paws clasped, the chipmunk took it, bouncing the ball directly upward.

The wind carried the hit, forcing Zora to scamper beneath it. Her foot-paws left loose, shifting prints in the dry sand.

The squirrel jumped, tapped the ball and sent it back to the chipmunk, who angled her arms to send it toward the net.

It was on a trajectory to barely clear it, and Mia sprinted to spike it down.

Zora, sensing this, rushed the net, tail flying like a multi-colored banner, leaping high and meeting the predator in the air. The squirrel blocked the kill.

“Whoa!"

But Mya, the other cat, dropped to her knees and saved it.

“Can you believe it!"

The ball sailed high, back over to the rodents.

By now, the crowd was going out of their minds.

Zora used the wind to tap the ball up and over and to the far end of the sand. It landed just inbounds.

“Point!"

“Remember, only three touches are allowed on the ball per possession. They are really maximizing their touches."

More cheering, stars and stripes waving in the stands.

“What a sequence, though! And the clutch precision kill by Zora! She soared to the net like a brushstroke. The jaguars look frustrated. They haven't faced anybody who can jump and aim like that."

Bella's serve, again.

The ball cleared the net, landing against Mia's paws, lifting it Mya's way. She attempted another spike.

Bella dove for a dig, saving the ball. Sand flew from the impact.

“Sweet as!" the kangaroo declared.

Zora backpedaled, almost tripping, but once more sent the ball high and long.

The jaguars chased it, getting to it in time but sending it back into their side of the net.

The crowd was abuzz, now. They could tell this was going to be a fight to the finish.

“They've come out firing, the USA. Up 2-1. But jungle cats have been known to toy with their prey. This lead isn't safe."

“That last point was all on Bella. What a wicked dig. The ball moves faster than foot-paws, and she's the shortest athlete on the sand, but she always finds a way."

Bella, panting with exertion, sent the next serve flying.

The jaguars batted it around before sending it toward Zora.

The ball went toward the far sideline.

The giant squirrel hesitated. It was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. The ball landed in the sand.

Half the crowd cheered.

The other groaned.

“Ooh."

“And we're tied 2-2."

“Zora knew exactly where it was going. Could she have gotten there in time? Probably, had she lunged. But knowing where it was going and making the dig are two different things. You can see the look on her face, paws on hips … "

“Was she thinking about the injury?"

“You're right. No question. She's afraid of hurting herself again. A second ACL tear? It would be a career-ender. And now that the felines sense that weakness, they're going to try to exploit it."

Bella came up to Zora and said something to her, trying to get her head back in the game.

Zora nodded, taking her paws off her hips.

Bella said something else.

Their tails touched.

The rodents exchanged a double high-five and got ready for the next serve.

While beach volleyball coverage continued on the main channel, more events were happening a few kilometers away on the network's sister stations …

“Welcome to Nautical Stadium!" a cheerful, bucktoothed beaver greeted. “And, today, the canoe slalom single heats. A chance to ride the rapids into the record books. The history of this event is full of the unexpected. Isn't that right, Kyler?"

The camera tilted toward a handsome, brown-eyed river otter. Nicely muscled despite his lean build, he had an impossibly thick, soft pelt, alternating between milk chocolate and hazelnut. Not to mention a rudder-tail that curved for days.

Beneath him, a graphic said: 'Olympic Gold Medalist – Male Skeleton Sled, 2022.'

Kyler flashed a charismatic, fanged smile. The very kind that had helped land him this media gig. His gold medal (a big upset!) had given him notoriety, but his personality had successful parlayed that into opportunity.

“I may have more Olympic experience with snow, but as an otter? I know water," Kyler told the viewers back home. “It's almost a living, breathing entity. You go where it wants you to go. How do the competitors fight it? They can't! Very rarely do the top three after the heat rounds end up on the podium. That's what makes this event so exciting."

“Indeed!"

A drone-cam hovered above the course, a big, turbulent 'pool' that was artificially rigged to mimic the rapids of a whitewater river.

“Twenty-five gates for the paddlers to negotiate. To avoid chaos and carnage will require concentration and quick mental adjustments."

Kyler chimed in, “Paddle with freedom, take some risks. Go big or go home! That's my motto."

The view switched to the starting gate, where the water was very calm.

“We're getting right to it! First up is Rolf. Representing Germany, the muskrat is in his second Games. He's thirty-three and enters Paris as the world-ranked number four paddler."

“Muskrats are very comfortable in the water. He is an athlete who has a big game temperament. He'd medaled at worlds, but this is his biggest stage yet. Can he deliver?"

The clock started as muskrat left the demure starting pool and entered the violent, whipping waves.

His canoe bobbed and dipped, crashing, disappearing into the foam. Then it reappeared! His paddle flew from side to side, strong arms moving left to right, steering him through the poles or 'gates' each contestant was required to pass through.

“Beautifully through gates one and two. There's three. And four."

“Losing a little bit of time through six, though. Needs to get on the edges," Kyler warned.

“He's really fighting with the water, now. A clean run so far, but … oh, no, he missed one. Too late to go back now. That'll be a penalty!"

“A penalty can prevent you from advancing," the otter insisted. “That's what pressure does to you. Brings on mental mistakes."

“Yes, you can see the disappointment on his face as he finishes the run. The way his whiskers have stiffened and tightened."

Kyler sympathized, “I know that feeling. He'll be beating himself up for a while."

A slow-motion replay showed the muskrat almost losing his paddle at one point.

“Next up, Libor, a hare from Slovenia. Age thirty-four, world champion from 2017. His third Olympics. Has a bronze medal from 2020."

“He has the credentials, and hares have a crazy energy about them. He's not afraid," Kyler echoed. “He knows what it takes."

The hare had brown fur that was already starting to grey. Long, tall ears. A bit of a gnarly, muscled look, lacking the cute curves and fluffs of his rabbit 'cousins.'

He stared down the course, took a deep breath, and left the gate.

The clock started.

“Libor loses a little bit of control, there, right at the start. Could be costly," the porcupine observed.

“He might be too focused. Too intense! Needs to relax, become one with the waves."

“He's not missing any gates, though. Easily getting to all of them. Up nearly a second on the last paddler."

The camera pushed in close, capturing the frantic, wild nature of the sport, complete with the sound of crashing, rushing water.

“Approaching the middle part of the course."

“Good through sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. Has good speed, but speed can also be your enemy. It's easy to forget where the limit is."

“But he's still gaining time! Up three seconds, nearly four. Just a few more gates. Wow, a five second gap on the last paddler. This will be hard to beat."

“That has psychologically," Kyler insisted, “sent a tsunami of doubt through the paddlers have yet to come. When you know you have to be perfect, you can over-compensate and throw off your rhythm. How will the others respond?"

“We'll find out! Don't go away! We'll be back after these messages … "

Come evening, after dinner, Kyler was in studio doing short interviews. Interstitials. Bridging the big primetime events (the ones that got the most viewers).

The river otter was sitting in a comfortable sofa-style chair, his rudder-tail fitted through the 'tail-gap' built into the back.

The producer, a fox, held up a paw.

Three, two, one …

“Welcome back! Those of you waiting for the first night of gymnastics, we'll get you there shortly. In the meantime, let's get to know another face of these Games."

The camera pulled back to reveal he had a visitor.

“You may not know her name, but you definitely know her. She stands out in any crowd." The otter bowed his head. “It's Zora, the Malabar squirrel. Hello, Zora!"

“Hey!" Zora said, waving at the camera and then flashing Kyler a bucktoothed smile. The squirrel was wearing a 'Team USA' t-shirt and shorts. Her tail was too big and fluffy to easily thread through the 'tail-gap,' so she just arced it over the top.

“So, you had a great game today, but—"

“Well, I lost. Heh. Is that great?" A shrug. “Technically, we lost," she said, her whiskers twitching. “Me and Bella. But it was my mistakes that cost us the game."

The camera eased back, both in the frame at the same time. Behind them, a big, ornate window revealing a glowing, sunset Paris.

“But," Kyler pointed out, “you were facing the world's number one ranked team. One of the more dominant pairs of recent years, I'm told. The jaguar twins, Mya and Mia."

The feed cut to a quick, soundless highlight of the cats celebrating as they beat the rodents.

Then back to the studio.

“Yeah, they're good," Zora admitted.

Kyler continued, “The fact that you got it to a third set? Kept it so close? Suggests you could very well get on the podium."

“To do that, we gotta advance out of our group. Makes tomorrow's match a must-win, y'know? Can't do down, like, 0-2 with only 3 games. You're usually not advancing at 1-2. Really need a 3-0 or 2-1 record to pass through."

“Are you always this hard on yourself?"

“Hah, no, not usually. But the stakes have never been higher for me, right?" The squirrel's tail flicked. “Like, I've never been on this stage. Never thought I would be after the injury. And four years 'til the next one? No guarantees."

The otter tilted his head, frowning slightly. “And you were thinking about that while playing?"

“A bit. Yeah."

He nodded, his expression becoming contemplative. “I find you need to be fully in the present to compete at the highest level. Almost have to be unconscious, right?"

“Right. Yeah."

“So, if you're thinking about the past or the future while your body is trying to anchor in the present? Bam. Your needle is out of the groove." Kyler looked to the camera. “That's a vinyl reference for all you youngsters."

“And how does one get their groove back?"

“Get in tune with your instincts," Kyler said warmly.

Zora giggled. “That's it? Sounds easy!"

“As easy as you want it to be."

The squirrel was often oblivious, but … was he flirting with her? She smiled and replied, “Coming from someone who slides head-first down icy chutes at eighty mile an hour? Heh, I couldn't do that."

“Oh, I've approached ninety a few times. In my gold medal run?" he said, leaning back in his chair. “I almost cracked it."

“All I do is dive to the sand at … five miles an hour? And I was afraid of hurting myself doing that! I dunno, heh. Have you crashed before?"

“Oh, yeah. That's why we gotta wear helmets. I crashed in practice before I won the gold in Beijing."

“You bounced back from that? How'd you put it behind you?"

“Instinct," he repeated, a glint in his eye.

It was technically the truth.

He couldn't say the real reason on-air (that he'd gotten laid multiple times between practice and his official run; was easy to forget your problems after that!).

“You gonna defend your gold in '26?" Zora asked.

“For sure!"

“Maybe I can interview you when that happens."

“You're sorta interviewing me now."

“Am I?"

“Mmhmm. Trying to take my job?"

The squirrel smiled and batted her lashes innocently.

The otter, on the edge of his seat, was about to offer a retort but the producers were telling him the next event was finally ready in the queue. “Well, thank you, Zora. Our time is up. You've been a delight. Good luck the rest of the Games!"

“Thanks, everyone. Hi, mom! Hi, dad! Go, USA!" Zora said.

Kyler smiled and looked to the camera again and finished, “That's it for me, tonight! Now, we send you to Bercy Arena for what is sure to be a gymnastics competition for the ages. Can Kiara the fox squirrel repeat on balance beam? Will the weasels dominate the floor exercise? Buckle up!"

“Aaaaand … we're out," the producer said.

Chatter enveloped the set, people pulling out their phones and wandering about.

Someone came and took off Kyler and Zora's microphones.

The Malabar got out of her chair.

Kyler, taking a deep breath, sized her up.

She was taller than him. By an inch? Maybe two. She was a giant squirrel, after all. Mmf.

“Nice interview," Kyler said, jumping out of his seat and eagerly following Zora off the set.

“I'm used to being on TV."

“Oh, right, right. Squirrel Your Stuff."

“You watch?" she asked, stopping in a hallway. Turning to face him. The exit was just around the corner. But she didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave.

“I'm traveling all the time, so I get behind with things. But I've seen it. Fun show! You're a star."

“Heh, flatterer. Don't tell the rest of the cast. They're jealous of me."

Squirrel Your Stuff was a reality show where a team of five squirrels (grey, red, fox, Prevost's, and Malabar) organized out of control or neglected homes.

Zora had no experience in such matters. Or TV at all. She was just added because a network exec met her at the doctor's office (during her ACL rehab) and thought she was hot. She quickly became the most popular squirrel on the show and had gotten multiple endorsements deals.

Kyler told her, “I saw that episode where you and the red fox … " He trailed off and quirked a brow.

Zora giggled, nodding. No reason to deny it. She wasn't embarrassed. “Yup." After a second, she asked, “Did you see the episode after? The Spooktacular Special? In the haunted mansion?"

“No. Why?" A grin. “What'd you get up to, then?"

“Nothing you wouldn't approve of, I bet."

“Saying I'm a playboy?"

“That's the rumor!" she said in a singsong tone. Lowering her voice, she added, “But some say you're hot for a bunny."

“Really, now?"

“Mmhmm."

“Both can be true."

“Yeah?"

“I'm in an open relationship with a Norwegian lop. Full disclosure," he confessed, spreading his webbed paws.

Astrid, a sports reporter he'd met at the last Winter Olympics. Currently, she was assigned to the Formula 1 racing beat.

“Ah, 'instincts'," Zora said, eyes sparking. “I get it, now. She helped you get your 'groove' back?"

“Mm-hmm."

“Long-distance?"

The otter nodded again, his expression becoming more poignant. “I see her … maybe twice a year."

“Aw." Zora reached out to squeeze his arm. “Yeah, that's rough." A pause. “You love her, don't you?"

“Yes." There was no hesitation.

The squirrel appreciated the otter's honesty. He could've lied, or not even mentioned it at all, to more easily get in her pants.

“Well." Withdrawing her paw, Zora reciprocated his openness, confessing, “I've got no attachments. Not looking for love." Her rich, golden eyes peered directly into his browns.

“Oh?" Kyler, raising a brow, shuffled closer, voice taking on a low, husky tone. “And what are you looking for?"

He was interrupted when a wolf walked past.

They waited 'til he was out of earshot.

Zora only said, “Need to get my groove back. Pretty bad. By tomorrow, actually."

“You don't say?"

She took a short breath. “Can you help with that?"

“You've come to the right otter," he promised, his rudder-tail brushing her ankle.

“Mm. I shouldn't leave the Olympic Village. I've got a very important match tomorrow."

“Of course. Probably have a roommate, too." He knew how the Village worked.

“Yup. A tanuki table tennis player."

“Do tanukis have good hearing?" Kyler wondered.

Zora tilted her head. “Dunno."

He leaned in and whispered, “Wanna find out?"

The otter was no stranger to pussy.

But, like works of art, each was different.

Astrid's was pink, puffy, and pouty. A cute trifecta.

Zora's lips weren't as outwardly prominent. More of an inward curve. The flesh was darker, too. Very rosy. When pried apart with his webbed fingers, he saw a lighter, bright pink. Wet and hot. Smooth. Inviting.

All bordered by thick, tufted raspberry red loin-fur.

“Gorgeous," the otter breathed, jaw opening as his tongue scooped into the squirrel.

They were naked on her bed.

Zora, while able, fumbled for the remote control for the flat-screen TV on the dresser. She turned it on, raising the volume. It was gymnastics coverage. Floor exercise. Music playing for each routine.

Maybe it would muffle some of the noises they'd be making?

His tongue danced on her clit.

“Ahh!" she cried.

Or maybe not.

Kyler, eyes closed and nose flaring, eagerly ate her out like she was tropical candy.

Sweet, soft, and velvety as a mango, tangy as a pineapple. Juicier than a passion fruit.

His whiskers dripped with her clear, warm nectar. Each time she cried out, he growled with satisfaction, vibrating her clit. Ultimately, he zeroed in on it, kissing it, swirling his tongue round and round, alternating between sucks and licks.

“Oh." Zora's golden eyes widened. She impulsively grabbed for him, his shoulders, his head. Anything! “Oh! Ohhh!"

“Good girl," he murmured. “Cum for me … come on … " He doubled down on his attentions.

Zora lost it, squirrel-barking.

Churrs!

Chitters!

A rainbow of sounds as her sex seized up in wet, wild spasms, pleasure blazing across every nerve. Her loins helplessly bucked at his maw. He pinned her down and kept going.

Her breasts heaved for air.

Finally, Kyler let up, nuzzling her belly.

Zora rubbed her face with her cantaloupe-colored paws, needing a few seconds to collect herself. She then reached down and played with his head-fur.

“Ah … so, Mr. Expert," she breathed. “What do I taste like?"

“Like you wanna be fucked," he murred hotly, not missing a beat.

Pushing himself up and crawling to all fours above her, the otter licked his fangs. His light-brown chest heaved as he stared down at her with wild, wanton intent.

Zora met that beastly gaze with hot, shivery jungle need, her whole being caught in the vortex of his animal logic.

Looking down under his body, she could see his cock. Throbbing between his legs, standing at full, six-inch attention, a rivulet of clear pre running down the tip and underside.

He growled lowly, waiting for her.

The squirrel spread her own legs wider, bending them, pulling them back. Foot-paws in the air.

“Nuh-uh," Kyler went, easing back to his shins and knees, making a whirling 'turn over' motion with his webbed paw. “Fours."

“My tail will get in your face." Normal squirrels had bushy tails. She was an abnormal squirrel. Her tail was huge.

“Do it."

Zora obeyed, rolling over, head on a pillow.

Kyler grabbed her maroon hips and pulled her purple, blackberry ass into the air, up to his hips. He rubbed his shaft against her wet pussy-lips, then reached down to guide it home.

Zora moaned when Kyler slid inside her.

Hard and thick. All the way, 'til his plush, furry balls nestled to her body.

She'd heard that otters had the softest fur on the planet. If that was true, how soft were those balls?

She wanted to feel them, roll them between her fingers. Maybe suck on them, too.

Her mind raced with erotic fantasies.

Kyler had other ideas on how to use them.

Hump!

Zora chittered.

Hump!

His hips were quickly at a fast, furious blur. He was a sledder. They didn't take any tunnel slow.

Jostled, rocked with rutting rhythm, Zora tilted her head, drooling on her pillow. “Uh … uhf!"

“Mm … mmm!" Kyler moaned behind her, slapping his curvy, thick rudder-tail on the end of the bed.

Her tail, as she'd warned, kept getting in his face. Not solely because of the length (she could always swerve it around him) but because she couldn't keep it still! It swished and swirled, mopping across his head.

The otter grabbed it, wrapping it around his neck like a scarf.

Problem solved, he doubled down.

Faster.

Harder.

Deeper.

Fur flew, shedding on the sheets, drifting through the air.

Zora whimpered, extending an arm under her body, furiously rubbing at her clit.

As they went, Kyler gradually dropped from his knees to all fours. Strong chest pressing to her back, paws planting on the mattress on either side of her.

His hips gyrated, motored.

Rocked, rolled.

He bit the scruff of Zora's nape.

That tripped her wire.

She came a second time, gaping, gasping, head swallowed up in her pillow, moans half-muffled.

“Yes … y-yes, yes," Kyler muttered lowly, luxuriating in her peak. Her pleasure super-fueled his, and he slammed into her once more. This time, he didn't pull back.

He couldn't.

Could barely move or think.

He could only cum, too.

“Ffffuuuuck," he groaned, shooting his seed into her clenching, climaxing body. Each ejaculation was a lightning bolt to his brain, causing him to chirp and trill in his feral tongue.

Zora trembled beneath him, panting heavily.

Kyler, pulse pounding, slumped atop her bigger body.

Momentary quiet as they recovered.

“K-kyler," she finally went.

“Mm?" he went, nuzzling her head.

“I … I think you made me cum my brains out."

Kyler laughed. Heartily. He nuzzled her shoulder and breathed, “Can't put that on the injury report, can you?"

“Ha ha! No … "

“But don't worry. You can have mine. I think I 'came' them into you."

She giggled, fumbling for the remote and muting the TV. She'd completely forgotten she'd 'strategically' turned it on.

They fell on their sides, spooning and cuddling, the otter eventually pulling out.

“Want me to shower with you?" he asked.

“Mm." It was tempting, but the squirrel shook her colorful head. She turned around to face him. “Nah, you should go. I really gotta get to bed."

“You are in bed," he murmured, fondling her breasts.

“Heh. You know what I mean."

“Yeah." He wagged his thumb over a nipple. She was absolutely right in her insinuation: he'd try to screw her again in the shower. “I should get some rest, too. Schedule's pretty full tomorrow."

“Hey … " She reached up to touch him, fingers curling in his chest-fluff.

“Yeah?"

“That was fun. Thanks."

“No problem." The otter smiled, leaning in to nuzzle noses. But not to kiss her. A kiss was too intimate for what they had both tacitly agreed to. “Hope you win the gold, girl. You deserve it. Kick their tails. I know you can."

“Aw." She smiled at him.

He smiled back, sitting up, swinging his legs off the bed. Turning, he held up a paw for her to high-five.

She reached up and enthusiastically gave it.

The otter got dressed, opened the bedroom door, looked both ways, and made his exit.

Zora sighed heavily, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling.

She folded her paws behind her head.

Had it worked?

Did she have her groove back?

I mean, that was awesome sex, but … I don't know.

I feel the same?

Kyler had confessed that Astrid had gotten his groove back. But he'd also developed strong emotions for her. Maybe love needed to be involved? Zora liked Kyler, but she didn't love him.

Bah!

You're overthinking this.

Just do.

Act on instinct.

_If you can do it in bed, you can do it on the sand. _

The squirrel reached down between her legs, feeling the warm, gooey souvenir the otter had left her.

Shower. Yeah.

She was also thirsty! Wouldn't do well to go into tomorrow's match dehydrated.

As she sat up, there was a knock on her door.

“I'm naked," Zora said, quickly pulling a sheet around her beautiful body.

Her tanuki roommate, Yuna, poked her head in anyway. “What was all that?" she demanded.

“All what?" Zora asked, playing dumb.

“That noise."

Zora pointed at the TV, where a rat was swinging on the uneven bars.

Yuna squinted. “Psh. I wasn't born yesterday." The petite raccoon-dog sniffed the air. “What were you doing?"

“Masturbating."

“Hah! Nice try. It was a trick question! Me and the tapir I brought home both saw him leaving. You woke us up." Yuna tilted her head. “Otters are hot, though. Respect!" She pantomimed a fist-bump.

Zora feigned one back.

“Feel like I've seen him somewhere, though. Have I?"

Zora shrugged, not giving Kyler up.

“Hmm." Another sniff. “He went down on you?! My guy didn't do that."

“How could you possibly know that?"

“We're related to canines," the tanuki bragged, tapping her snout. “So, yeah."

Zora made a skeptical face.

“Saw you lost to those spotted kitties today. They kept cursing in Portuguese. I translated some of it. Yikes."

“Yeah, they're hardcore."

Yuna was about to ask another question about the match, but Zora quickly changed the subject. No dwelling. Clean slate.

“You brought home a tapir?" the squirrel said. “Like, the ones with droopy noses? And hooves?"

“Ha! I know, right? He's from Peru. An archer. You should see his biceps. He was … well. We fooled around earlier and fell asleep."

“He worked you over that much, huh?"

“It was pretty good. But, no, I was tired from the grueling match I had today."

“Did you win?" Zora asked.

“Yeah. But table tennis … phew, takes it out of you! Brutal. Especially at this level."

“I'll remember that next time I get a face full of burning hot sand while tearing a ligament in seventy percent humidity."

“Ha, ha. You wouldn't last five seconds at the table."

Zora flopped back into bed. “Well, how 'bout we 'table' this conversation 'til morning?" She fought back a yawn. “I gotta turn in soon."

“Sure, yeah. Sorry!"

“It's okay. Congrats on the tapir. Oh, and the win, I guess."

“Thanks!" Yuna said. “Props on the ott."

When she was finally alone, Zora kicked off the sheet and turned off the TV. She then grabbed a water bottle, downing the whole thing before taking a hot, steamy shower.

Two days later:

The porcupine announced, “USA, for match point … "

The camera panned across the sand, the crowd on its feet, cheering loudly.

“You gotta win by two points," the kangaroo said, “and with the wild momentum swings we've seen? This may be their best chance. Don't want to fall back into a tie with the Swiss. Winner of this match automatically qualifies for the knockout round. The Round of 16. Loser, at 1-2, almost certainly goes home barring some luck."

“Bella with the serve. Nora, the badger takes it, sets up her teammate Charlotte. The chamois is nimble on her hooves. Looks like she's going to spike it, but it's a misdirect! She sends it to Zora's far sideline!"

In slow-motion, the ball wafted just outside the squirrel's normal reach. It was going to land inbounds, wasn't it?

Zora found herself in the same situation as Game 1.

This time, she didn't think.

She fought the fear.

Reacted.

Lunged!

Her tail wavering like a stray aurora ribbon.

Arms reaching out, paws clasped, she belly-flopped in the warm, shifting sand, chittering as the ball bounced off her curled, white-clawed fingers and high up in the air, lost in the blazing sun.

“Zora with the dig! The save! Bella gets beneath it, but she's not in position to return it … Zora needs to get up! Bella lofts it back to the squirrel, who's now on her knees, now on her foot-paws. Upright, jumping, single paw swinging!"

The ball sailed over the net, to the sand.

The crowd went wild.

“USA advances!"

“Wow, wow," the kangaroo said. “The Swiss didn't think Zora would even attempt to dig for that, so they rested when it went her way. By the time they realized it was coming back to them, they were already out of rhythm."

Zora and Bella hugged before waving to the crowd.

A camera crew closed in on the squirrel, handing her a microphone so she could talk to the booth.

“Zora … Zora, you seemed flustered, even frustrated, earlier in group play. Now, you're in the knockout round. It appears the jaguar twins and the second American team will be on the other side of the bracket. What luck! You stand a very good chance of getting to the medal rounds. But this game could've gone either way! That last play … what came over you? What changed?"

“Just playing my game. Ha!" The squirrel panted, shaking her head. Smiling widely. “Playing within myself. You might say I got my groove back."

“And how did you do that? Meditation, perhaps? Coaching?"

“Just a new exercise routine."

Before the announcers could ask for details, Zora handed the microphone back, giggling and blowing a kiss into the camera before scampering off.

“Well, there you have it, folks," the porcupine said. “Another exciting day on the sand. Will we see a rematch in the title game? Or will there be some upsets along the way?"

The kangaroo added, “One thing is for sure: Zora is playing more confidently than we've ever seen her. Whatever lit her fire must've been quite something!!"

“We'll see you back here tomorrow for the knockout rounds. Don't go anywhere! After this break, we'll bring you to some enthralling sport-climbing action from Let Bourget Sport Climbing Venue in Saint Denis, where the defending gold medalist, a possum, looks to out-scale a field of hungry predators. Then, squeaky all-mouse badminton action from Porte de la Chapelle Arena. It's too cute to believe!"